


Flowers From A Ghost

by TheMockingJ3



Series: Put Yourself Back In The Narrative [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Clive’s in prison, Crossings out, Flowers, Former Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Partly a memory from Lost Future, Put yourself back in the narrative, Retrospective, This was originally going to be a platonic fic for Clive/Flora week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: “What about those carnations? The red ones symbolise love… or admiration, and the pink ones symbolise remembrance. You might even find them at a funeral…”(This can be read as part of a series, but it can also be read as stand-alone!)
Relationships: Clive & Flora Reinhold, Flora Reinhold & Luke Triton, Hershel Layton & Flora Reinhold
Series: Put Yourself Back In The Narrative [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831519
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Flowers From A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This was originally meant to be a platonic fic for Flora/Clive week based on the first prompt... while I don't ship them romantically myself, I do enjoy their relationship. This kind of throws a wrench in the very weak timeline for my "Put Yourself Back in the Narrative" series, but I promise you don't have to read the previous fics in order to read this. All you need to know is that Flora is looking after Kat and Alfendi. 
> 
> Warnings: Missing family members, Flora being critical of Clive, Layton and Luke... and Clive's not doing so good in prison. He’s older now and might not be eating properly. 
> 
> Set: Years after PL3 and about a year after Layton and Luke set out to search for the Relic Stones in the anime. Flora is roughly 27/28-years-old. 
> 
> Spoilers: We'll say most of the series just to be safe, but mainly for PL3 and the flashbacks in the anime.

“Oh— you shouldn’t have...” 

Flora buries her face in the carnations Inspector Barton has just handed her. Hopefully, he won’t see her scowl, or the tears prickling her eyes.

She doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but her family has received so many flowers already and they’re running out of places to put them all. 

Lilies line the mantelpiece, roses obscure the windowsill, hyacinths cover the table...

But the professor’s desk remains empty in his study. 

Flora pretends to sniff the pink and red carnations. “Thanks...” Her words sound stuffy and forced. 

To her surprise, Barton doesn’t offer condolences or platitudes. 

( _“I’m sure he’s out there somewhere!”/ “So sorry for your loss...”/ “We’re right here if you ever need to talk.”/ “Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”/ “He would never forget his family...”)_

Barton simply shakes his head. “They aren’t from me, Miss.” 

“Who—?” Flora cuts herself off when she discovers a small slip of paper concealed amongst the flowers. “...I see.” 

Barton nods, salutes to her and bumbles away from their doorstep. (It’s a minor comfort, knowing that some people never change.) 

Flora shuts the front door, drifts into the kitchen, and drops the carnations in the bin. 

* * *

“Look, aren’t they pretty?” 

He had pointed to the flower shop opposite the restaurant in the arcade. 

Flora— too worried about the professor’s whereabouts to focus— barely even glanced at the flowers. _“Mmhmm...”_

A firm-but-gentle hand clutched her upper arm, halting her. “Wait, Flora...”

“ _What?”_ she huffed. 

He led her to the shop’s paved threshold, where there were assorted plants in light blue pots and a miniature tree at the very back. Picking up a pot of pink and red flowers, he pondered, “Do you know what _these_ are?” 

Was he trying to distract her ~~(like a child with something shiny)~~? Or had he remembered how much she loved gardening? How it made her feel connected to her mother? 

The professor’s garden was minuscule compared to that of Reinhold Manor, but she and Luke ~~( _her_ Luke)~~ often tended to the flowerbeds around Gressenheller’s campus. As trivial as the task was, she enjoyed helping the university and spending time with Luke. 

Once, the pair of them had caught Dean Delmona’s pet spaniels tromping through a bed of poppies. They were even worse than _Claudia!_ Sheand Luke had been in stitches... 

Did Big Luke cherish those memories, as Flora did?

“Any ideas?” Big Luke ~~(Clive)~~ held the pink and red flowers under Flora’s nose. She turned away, casting her gaze across the arcade. 

It was most likely that she and Big Luke ~~(still Clive)~~ would reach the hotel before the professor and Little Luke, considering that they didn’t have Don Paolo in tow. She would just end up waiting for the professor at the hotel. 

She might as well humour Big Luke here. ~~(Let him _mock_ her even more.) ~~

She studied the flowers; their petals were frilly, like little ballet dancer skirts. She didn’t recognise them... 

Humming, Flora took a sniff, _as if_ she was experienced enough to identify them by scent. They smelled sweet and fresh... just like most flowers. 

Flora sighed and shook her head. “Are they a futuristic species…?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled. ~~(Or was it a _scoff_?)~~ “They’re called _carnations—_ they’re quite common in your time. You’ll see them in droves in Regent’s Park.” ~~(The professor and Luke never did take her there...)~~

“Are they... _less_ common now— in _this_ time?” Flora asked. 

Big Luke frowned. “You may have noticed that there are _far_ less flowers in London now... apart from the weeds.” 

Flora nodded. She _had_ noticed— despite what Little Luke might think— that Future London favoured machinery over nature. Even in the park, the grass was cut short and the trees all seemedto look the same surrounding the observatory. There was no variety, no colour, and definitely no flowers. 

“Business must be good here,” Flora said, glancing inside the flower shop. ~~(Was there ever a shopkeeper, or was it always empty?)~~

Maybe she could get the professor some flowers? The professor seemed happy whenever Rosa left a vase of flowers in his office, though he wasn’t very good at watering them. He needed something that was easy to look after, like a _cactus!_

“You could say that...” Big Luke pulled a face as he inspected the price tag on the flower pot. ~~(Surely he had already payed for it with his _inheritance.._.)~~ Carefully, he placed the pot on the floor next to its neighbours. 

Flora bent down to peruse the range of plants. “Do you know…?” she wondered, blushing slightly. “Are there any flowers that symbolise _gratitude?”_

 _“Gratitude...?”_ he repeated _._ ~~(Even back then, she had caught the cynicism in his tone, but she had brushed it off as a product of his environment.)~~ “For _what?”_

“For the professor, of course!” 

Professor Layton had given her a new home and a new life outside of St. Mystere. As much as he could leave her behind— with Rosa, usually— he would never leave her for _that_ long... He could be distant in a polite way, but he still cared about her. 

~~(Didn’t he?)~~

“Oh— _of course_ ,” Big Luke agreed, smiling. 

Flora blinked at him for a moment. Little Luke would smile at the drop of a hat. But Flora could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Big Luke smile so far— with true happiness. 

Not that ghost of a smile or that smirk he would try to hide behind his hand. Now, it completely transformed his face; his eyes brightened and his brows disappeared under his cap. He had never looked so much like his younger self. 

He crouched down beside Flora. “I’m no botanist... but I think those carnations might be your best bet. The red ones symbolise _love_ … or _admiration_ , and the pink ones symbolise _remembrance_. You might even find them at a funeral _…”_

Flora looked from him to the carnations. _Love, remembrance, sympathy…_ Those were all general reasons for giving out flowers. Did any of them apply specifically to Big Luke? 

“How can you be _sure?”_ Flora murmured. Had Luke ever fallen in love— if he even had time? ~~(There was Marina, but then...)~~ How often did he look back on his adventures with the professor? Aside from the professor, had he lost anyone close to him?

~~(Did he remember Flora fondly?)~~

Big Luke shrugged. “Years ago, the professor and I travelled around the world in an airship. We encountered all sorts of flowers—”

“An _airship?”_ Flora gasped. “When was _that_?”

“I can’t _believe_ we never told you!” Big Luke slapped his head. “You’ll have to ask Little Luke— it should still be fresh in his mind…” 

Flora wasn’t _that_ oblivious; she could tell he was trying to divert her attention, but she played along. Those happier memories of the professor must have been painful. Flora didn’t want to push him.

When she was younger, she had spent hours sitting alone next to her mother’s grave. Lady Dahlia had been a living reminder of Flora’s loss. Big Luke must have felt something similar, seeing a younger, uncorrupted version of the professor. 

~~(What would he think of Professor Layton _now,_ over ten years later? The professor who had left his family in pursuit of stones and relics?)~~

“We should head to the hotel,” Big Luke decided, standing up. He dusted himself off and offered Flora his hand.

She reached for the pot of carnations. “Okay, I’ll just get these—”

“Don’t worry— I’ll come back for them later.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Apologies, but I don’t… currently have any money with me.”

 _“Me neither!”_ Flora exclaimed. She laughed as she realised— “Any money I _did_ have would be _out of_ _date_!”

“I never _thought_ of that!” He laughed along with her, and she accepted his hand.

* * *

Besides the police and the prison staff, no one has come to visit Clive in a year.

Time has not been kind to him; he appears malnourished (he barely eats these days, according to Barton) and there are already hints of grey in his hair. He’s a far cry from the ‘handsome’ young terrorist who owned the papers over a decade ago.

His eyes are emptier than the cavern that once lay beneath London, but something lights within them as he gazes at Flora through the glass.

“Any news on the _professor?”_ he rasps, nearly repeating word for word what he wrote in his note.

Kat had found the note in the bin, along with the carnations, and she had convinced Flora to talk to Clive. _(“It’s what Dad would want! We can’t just leave him!”)_

“No.” Flora leans back in her seat on the other side of Clive’s cell. She has _nothing_ to fear; they have Clive under constant surveillance, thanks to former PM, Bill Hawks. 

There’s no way Clive could have anything to do with the professor’s disappearance. He never leaves his cell, and they would have noticed if he was corresponding with outside forces. 

Even if he _could_ , Flora doesn’t believe he _would_. 

“Flora...” Clive says her name like an afterthought. He suddenly remembers his manners. “How are you doing? How’s your family—?”

“They don’t know that I’m here,” Flora interrupts, “and I’d rather to keep it that way.” (Alfendi will _never_ forgive her if he finds out…) 

“Why _are_ you here?” Clive wonders. “All I asked was for you to keep me updated. You didn’t have to come _in person_...”

Before she can lose her nerve, Flora pulls out a fountain pen (from the professor on her twenty-first birthday) and a notepad. 

Most of the people she knows— Uncle Desmond, Emmy, Randall...— have extended their search far beyond England. Meanwhile, Flora remains in London, just as she always has done. She won’t abandon Al and Kat, not even for the professor. 

Clive, once a roving reporter, has followed the professor‘s adventures from the start. He knows more about the professor’s past than Flora ever will. 

“I need a list of _anyone_ and _everyone_ who would want to harm the professor and Luke,” Flora demands.

Clive sighs, but straightens up in his seat. He smirks. “That would be a _terribly_ _long_ list—“

Flora points her pen at him. “Then you’d _better_ start talking.” 


End file.
